By: Eve Estelle
Springtime arrives with a rekindled fire,
Breathe the air fresh like New Year's Day;
Feel the warmth of the sun's ire,
Awakening once more the flowers of May.
Birdsong echoes through a sky that shines blue,
Joyful voices, but they aren't you -
The grass glows a brilliant green,
And I smile when I see those Irish daisies,
The golden manes that grow to fly;
Descendants of summers I fear are by.